


Turn for the Worst

by Outofangband



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, arda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 03:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outofangband/pseuds/Outofangband
Summary: (Maglor, Celegorm, and Caranthir get some very, very bad news. Set a day or so after Maedhros’s capture. Pretty short piece as I still have writers block. Actually though this concerns Maedhros it’s the first Tolkien piece not actually about him I’ve written in about a year)





	Turn for the Worst

**Author's Note:**

> (I am accepting prompts!)

 “I am sorry, My Lords. There is no sign of him.” The nervous guard had repeated this phrase three times already. It was difficult enough to pass on such discouraging news to her leaders but the way the three brothers she stood before kept interrupting to talk among themselves made the tension rise  to an almost breaking point. The scene was frozen with Turcafinwë raising one hand in an agitated dismissal of his younger brother and Canafinwë tilting his head in contemplation when the guard managed to stammer out her report loud enough to get their attention. The guard flinched when, finally, she saw comprehension of her words flicker across the prince’s face. It took a minute or so for the scene to fall.   
    “What?” Lord Turcafinwë asked sharply as his older brother seemed to sink into his chair, “No sign of…” He shook his head, raising an eyebrow in an exaggerated manner as though he had just been informed his hair had suddenly changed color.   
      “I…I searched the area myself,” the guard says in a tone of forced calm, “As did the rest of my party. There are…there are not a small number of casualties. I have a list-” Canafinwë held up his hand.   
      “I do not care about that, not now,” he murmured, “I want to speak to who survived. Now. Bring them to me.” He sounded more dangerous than the guard had ever observed. A very real fear rose in her as she started to explain why this order could not be obeyed.   
     “There are no survivors,” she bows her head, “Assuming we had the full list of those who accompanied King Nelyafinwë, then all are accounted for and all are are slain, “she takes a breath, “Except for King Nelyafinwë himself.”   
     “He could have been injured!” Morifinwë spoke for the first time since the news had been given, “Nelyo, that is.” It is clear he is speaking more to his brothers than to the guard, “We should mount a wider search. He could have been injured and tried to get back on his own.” Canafinwë nods, though from his expression he seems to be in more personal thought.   
   “Why on…why did he go alone?” he mutters, “I need to…” Turcafinwë scoffs though there are tears in his eyes.   
   “Are you joking?” he snaps, “Of course he went alone! The idiot knew something like this would happen.”   
     “We do not know what has happened!” Morifinwë says in an unusually shrill voice, “Tyelko, we do not know what has happened.”   
Canafinwë ignores this new, mounting argument and turns back to the guard.   
“You are dismissed,” he murmurs, “Prepare to go out again if necessary.” Morifinwë throws him an incredulous look at this but remains silent. The guard bows and exits. Turcafinwë gets to his feet.   
      “I am going with them.”  
    “No, you are not,” his older brother replies wearily, “We need to reorganize.” Tyelko looks furious and it is only the terrified expression on his younger brother’s face that perhaps stops him from beginning a shouting match. He whistles for Huan before perching on the edge of his chair, swinging his legs in a highly agitated manner. 

    “My Lords, I beg your pardon,” it is the guard again, looking absolutely terrified. She takes a small step into the tent.   
      “What is it,” Canafinwë looks up. The guard approaches and bows before extending a gloved hand. “This was found on the perimeter of the camp,” she says, “We think it was delivered by bird.” Tyelko snatches up the offered object before his older brother can stop him. It is a letter, wrapped messily in brown parchment paper and containing a small paragraph of darkly scribbled handwriting. When he shook the wrappings off, a small object fell to the ground. The guard bent to pick it up and immediately offered it back to the Noldor lord who looked from it to the letter and back. Tyelko’s jaw was tightly clenched. It was only when Canafinwë made a slightly annoyed inquiring sound that he tossed the object back to him. Morifinwë gasps audibly when he sees his brother is holding a small pendant in the shape of a lizard belonging to Nelyafinwë. It doesn’t take much effort to guess the contents of the letter, even before all have read it.   
     “He…He could be lying,” Morifinwë says quickly, “That…” he points to the lizard, “That could have been found after the..the fight.” Tyelko snorts derisively, burying the guilt he feels when his younger brother’s face shows shock and hurt.   
   “Nelyo keeps that hidden under his vambraces,” he says through gritted teeth, “So unless one of the Dark Lord’s servants found Nelyo’s armor and randomly decided to look through those…” he curses loudly. The idea of the Enemy stripping his brother of his armor sends a chill down his spine and a flush to his face.   
    “Give me the note,” Canafinwë says very quietly after an uncomfortable silence. Tyelko cannot throw paper but he hands over the letter in an unnecessarily aggressive way. It is read over several times before the guard is dismissed again. 

__**My terms have changed.  
**                                I will be keeping Nelyafinwë close by my side  until such a time you deem it sensible to respond with  
                          an agreement to meet and discuss your surrender and  
                         forfeiture of these lands.   
                     If you do not reach such a decision in a month, the Noldor will find themselves mourning the loss of  
                       yet another king long before his time.   



End file.
